


when it gets cold, i'll be yours

by sadrobotboy (bruisesandcontusions)



Category: Bandom
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Trans Character, also high school au but not, coffee shop au but not, overuse of the word softly, this is ridiculous im sorry, yay :D
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:21:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisesandcontusions/pseuds/sadrobotboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Spencer thinks that if Jon could stop being so charming all the time, then maybe Spencer would have an excuse not to fall for him. Maybe.</i>
</p><p>Coffee and Christmas and crushes. Also high school boys being ridiculous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when it gets cold, i'll be yours

**Author's Note:**

> yesssss i JUST got this finished in time for christmas, i was so worried i wasn't going to make it. i refue to apologise for how cheesy this is because fuck it, it's christmas. if you want to blame anyone, blame nonbinaryryland for making me want to make trans fic a thing. merry christmas!
> 
> (also, in order to make the deadline this is entirely unbeta-d and so probably full of mistakes)

Ryan drags Spencer into Starbucks for the third time that week, and next time Spencer is going to walk straight back out the door, he really is. He doesn’t even _like_ coffee, for fuck’s sake. 

Ryan doesn’t really like it either, but he’s trying to because he thinks it makes him more sophisticated or something. (Spencer has seen Brendon high on a caffeine rush before, and, honestly, sophisticated is not the word he would use to describe it. He’s inclined to think that maybe the Mormons have got it right when it comes to that one.) Really, though, Spencer knows it’s only the lure of Christmas drinks that have convinced Ryan to become a coffee connoisseur, drawing him in with their cinnamon and peppermint smell and 1300 extra calories, and that by the time the New Year comes around Ryan will have found some new fad to obsess over. Hopefully one that doesn’t involve standing around for half an hour waiting for overpriced drinks. 

“Can you order for me?” Ryan asks, already pressing notes into Spencer’s hands, and Spencer sighs but nods, letting Ryan scamper off to get them a table. He already knows Ryan’s order off by heart, but the moment he reaches the counter his voice seems to get stuck in his chest. 

There’s this _guy_ behind the counter, wearing the Starbucks uniform which shouldn’t look good on anyone but _wow_. He has dark brown hair, flat ironed into a fringe that falls over one eye, and stubble that is making Spencer ever so slightly weak in the knees. Then he looks up at Spencer with a smile, and that’s it, Spencer is _gone_. 

“What can I get for you?” the guy asks, and yes, words, Spencer, words are useful. 

“Vanilla frappuccino with, um, white chocolate sauce, and, er, a cinnamon latte, please?” Spencer’s voice sounds even higher than normal, and he bites his lip crossly. Stupid female hormones. “They’re for, um, Ryan and Spencer.” 

The guy (the beautiful, gorgeous guy who is so far out of Spencer’s league it’s ridiculous) nods and starts making the drinks, and Spencer fumbles in his schoolbag for change, trying to hide his red face and stop himself from staring. Thankfully it doesn’t take long before two cups are being pushed towards him and he can hand over his change and get the hell out of there. 

“I like your t-shirt,” the guy says as he’s getting Spencer’s receipt, and Spencer blinks, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, before looking down to check that, yes, he is wearing his ratty old Foo Fighters shirt under his hoodie. The guy smiles again, which is totally unfair when Spencer is already having difficulty speaking, thank you. 

“I, um, thanks,” Spencer says, before grabbing the cardboard cups and hurrying away from the counter, cursing himself internally for being so awkward. 

When Spencer finally makes his way over to the table in the corner that Ryan has commandeered, Ryan looks up at him with a frown. “What were you talking to Jon Walker about?” he asks, and Spencer wills his face not to heat up as he slides into the seat across from him. 

“Jon Walker?” he asks, glancing back over at the counter to see that Jon ( _Jon_ ) has moved on to wiping down the surfaces, then turns back to Ryan. “Is that his name?” Ryan stares at him. 

“Er, yeah. He goes to our school, you know. He’s a senior. Hangs around with Tom Conrad and that lot. His photographs are in the magazine sometimes.” 

“Oh.” Spencer tries to act disinterested, but secretly his brain is churning with new information. Jon is a _senior_ at _their school_. And he’s a _photographer_. How has Spencer never noticed this vision of perfection walking around the school before? “He, er, he seems nice.” 

“Nice?” Ryan’s smirking, and shit, Spencer is totally busted. Goddamn this freaky twin telepathy thing they’ve had going on for years. “Nice as in he makes good coffee, or nice as in you wanna stick your dick in him?” 

Spencer chokes on his first sip of his latte (which is actually very good, huh) and glares at Ryan. “Neither. And also I don’t have a...” 

Ryan laughs. “I know, dude. Not yet at least.” He reaches out to pat Spencer’s hand, and Spencer is almost willing to forgive him before he starts whispering, “Spencer and Walker sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-”

“You’re such an asshole,” Spencer states firmly, taking a large sip of his latte and immediately regretting it as it burns its way down his throat. Ryan grins and makes kissy faces at him, and Spencer sighs. There will be no kissing happening with Jon Walker, thank you. Not least because there’s no way a gorgeous senior like him would want anything to do with a loser trans kid freshman like Spencer. Ryan is ridiculous, and also delusional. 

//

“Yeah, no, I’m just not sure the yellow background will work particularly well against the saturation of the photos.” 

Spencer starts and stops dead in the doorway, frowning into the classroom in confusion. Spencer honestly hadn’t expected to see Jon again outside of Starbucks (not that he’s, like, been looking for him in every corridor at school or anything), but here he is leaning over one of the shitty school laptops and pointing something out on the screen to Ryan, who nods and presses a few keys in response. 

“Hey Ryan,” Spencer mutters, trying to surreptitiously get his attention so he can ask why the hell Ryan is hanging around with _Jon Walker_ behind Spencer’s back, but Ryan looks up and grins at him. 

“Spencer! You’re here!” Spencer tries not to roll his eyes. Honestly, for someone who acts like they’re so deep and mysterious half the time, Ryan has never been the best at subtlety. 

“Where are the rest of the publishing team?” Spencer asks, and Ryan shrugs. 

“Oh, they cleared off ages ago, but I told Jon I’d help him sort out his Twelfth Night photos.” 

Jon looks up then, giving Spencer a little wave before recognition breaks out over his face. “Hey, it’s you right? Foo Fighters guy?” 

Spencer is more than a little surprised that Jon remembers who he is when he must serve dozens of customers cinnamon lattes with every shift, but he does his best to hide his shock. “Yeah, that’s me I guess.” 

“Awesome. I saw them on tour last year, they seriously rock live.” Jon leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head and yawning, and Spencer tries extremely hard not to stare at the slice of skin between Jon’s belt and the hem of his jumper. “I think we’re done here, Ryan, just tell your team not to lighten any of the pictures too much when they’re adding text, okay?” 

Ryan nods, but Spencer has notices the evil glint in his eye and he knows it was too much to hope that Ryan would just leave things be between him and Jon. No that there is a _him and Jon_. Him and Jon does not exist, which is exactly why Ryan should not meddle with it. 

“Hey, Jon, you guys are performing at the concert tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jon nods, busying himself with removing his memory stick from the laptop and clearing away his camera gear that is spread out over the desk. “Why, are you two coming?” 

“We weren’t –” _planning on it_ Spencer is about to say, before Ryan interrupts him. 

“- Going to miss it! I haven’t been able to catch you guys before, but I’ve heard you’re really good.” 

Spencer is going his best to send Ryan _what the hell are you doing???_ signals with his eyebrows, but then Jon looks up and smiles at him and it’s all Spencer can do to stay upright, frankly. 

“That’s great,” Jon says softly, and fuck, Spencer must be imagining the way he’s smiling straight at him, right? “I can’t wait to see you guys there.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer manages to get out. “Me too. To see you I mean. I, er, and your band of course.” 

Jon chuckles, slinging his camera around his neck and giving Ryan a quick wave as he leaves the classroom. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” he calls over his shoulder, and clearly he’s talking to the both of them, God, Spencer, get a grip. 

When Jon turns the corner at the end of the corridor, Spencer is finally able to wheel on Ryan. “What the hell are you doing? We never go to school music concerts!” 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Ryan shrugs infuriatingly, packing away the laptop and picking up his bag. “And calm down, I’m doing you a favour here. This could be the start of you and Jon’s beautiful romance! Your children will have me to thank for getting you together!” 

“You read too many Austen novels,” Spencer sighs, even if his chest does feel light and fluttery at the mere thought of Jon Walker. Not that Spencer would ever say that aloud. Ryan is annoying when he’s wrong, but he’s simply unbearable when he’s right. 

//

I thought you said Jon was a photographer?” Spencer asks as they pick their way through the seats between alternately proud and bored looking parents, trying to find the perfect vantage spot. 

“He is,” Ryan replies, grabbing them two chairs to the left of the hall. “He’s just also in a band too. He’s a man of many talents, Spencer.” Spencer ignores Ryan’s suggestive eyebrows at that, and instead looks around for anyone they know. 

“Who else is performing?” he asks. He could just look in the programme, but there’s no point. As head of the school magazine committee, Ryan knows absolutely everything that happens at the school, often before most of the teachers do. 

“Cassadee’s singing,” Ryan informs him, “and Barakat’s band are doing something as well. Oh, plus choir and the rock band.” 

“Great,” Spencer groans, considering the possibility of pulling out his headphones until Jon’s band come on. As a drummer, he could easily have joined rock band instead of marching band for his extracurricular, but he honestly doubts that the freshman guitarists know anything other than Journey, which is probably why they perform it at every concert. “Why are we here again?” Spencer mutters, just as the lights go down over the audience and the show begins. 

There’s a pause for refreshments halfway through the concert, and Spencer happily munches on a KitKat, glad to be out of earshot of the first year violin players’ screeching strings. Ryan has gone to the toilet to fix his eyeliner or something, and Spencer almost jumps a mile when a voice behind him whispers, “Boo!” 

Jon’s laugh, Spencer decides quickly, is the greatest thing to have ever happened in the universe. Spencer can feel his heart beating faster just at the sound. 

“Did I scare you, Spencer Smith?” Jon asks, and Spencer shakes his head defiantly.

“Not at all. I’m unshakeable.” Wow, Spencer is actually talking like a normal human being in front of Jon Walker. He’s impressing himself. “Also, how do you know my last name?” 

Jon shrugs lopsidedly, probably due to the guitar he has slung over one shoulder. “I asked around.” 

Spencer thinks that if Jon could stop being so charming all the time, then maybe Spencer would have an excuse not to fall for him. Maybe. 

“You haven’t performed yet,” Spencer says obviously, motioning towards Jon’s instrument and effectively changing the subject. Jon thankfully doesn’t seem to notice his non-sequitur. 

“Yeah, we’re closing this join. Can’t decide if that makes us the headliners of the skeleton shift.” Spencer laughs. Dammit, Jon also needs to stop being so funny. And gorgeous and talented and _fuck_. 

“It means you’re the best of course,” Spencer quips, and before he can overthink it he’s offering Jon the other half of his KitKat. Jon takes it with a blinding smile that Spencer doesn’t think is entirely to do with the chocolate. 

“I hope so, man. I mean, we’re nothing special, but you don’t start a band because you want it to go nowhere, y’know?” Spencer nods, even though he doesn’t know, not really. 

“Right, you guys, back into the hall! The party isn’t over yet!” Mr Toro’s voice cuts across their conversation, and Jon smiles at Spencer slightly regretfully. 

“I gotta go. Enjoy the rest of the concert!” His eyes are very brown, Spencer notices, the same colour as his hair. 

“Yeah, good luck with your performance!” Spencer tells him as Jon makes his way back through the crowd, his guitar proving a useful tool to clear the way. Jon flashes him a grin, and then he’s gone through the double doors and Spencer is left feeling like maybe he’s forgotten how to breathe. 

“Hey, was that Jon?” Ryan asks, sliding up beside him and shoving Spencer’s last three Jaffa Cakes into his mouth at once. Spencer can only nod. 

//

“Jon’s band were good, weren’t they?” Spencer whispers. The room is dark, and the clock on the wall is too loud, but Spencer can’t stop thinking about how Jon looked on stage, the way his hands held the bass, the way he _sang_. “I mean, Jon’s a really good musician.” 

Ryan makes a humming noise that might mean yes. Spencer is suddenly very aware of his chest rising and falling under his t-shirt, the soft curve of his mouth. “Ryan, I...” his voice is even lower now, barely a murmur against the pillowcase. “I think I might like him.” 

“Go to sleep, Spencer.” Ryan’s voice is rough, and he sounds half-asleep or half-dead. 

Spencer does. 

//

When Jon sits next to them at lunch the next day, Spencer decides that the universe must be playing some giant practical joke on him. Still, if the joke involves Spencer spending extended amounts of time with Jon Walker, then he’s not going to waste his breath arguing about it. That would just be stupid. 

“Hey guys,” Jon says, taking the seat next to Spencer and promptly stealing one of his chips. “You don’t mind if I sit here, right?” 

Ryan is texting Brendon (Spencer knows this because he has an expression on his face that is somewhere between adoration, exasperation, and wanting to throw his phone across the hall), so Spencer figures it’s up to him to make conversation. 

“Not at all,” he says, stealing one of Jon’s fries in return. Jon grins at him, and Spencer tells himself to get a good grip. He is not a teenage girl with a crush. He is a teenage boy who... yeah, okay, whatever. Spencer has resigned himself to being ridiculous when it comes to Jon Walker. “I liked the show last night,” Spencer continues, focusing intently on his food and not the way Jon keeps _looking_ at him. “You guys are really good.” 

“You think so?” Jon asks, looking pleased, and Spencer takes another fry while he’s distracted. 

“Yeah, totally. You were better than anyone else on that stage. 

Jon ducks his head, looking slightly embarrassed at the praise. “I mean it’s Mikey’s project more than anything, but –”

“Oh shut up, you were all great, okay?” 

Spencer is surprised at how easy it is to talk to Jon as they laugh and banter together. He doesn’t feel nervous any more – it’s like he’s known Jon for years instead of just a few days. Jon keeps smiling at Spencer like he’s something important and worth listening to, and Spencer is doing his best to keep it together. He thinks he might actually be succeeding. 

It’s a surprise to Spencer when the bell rings, and Jon looks up at the clock like he can’t believe half an hour has passed that quickly either. 

“I’ve got maths class,” Jon sighs, sliding his bag over his shoulder. “You anywhere near there next?” 

“Nah,” Spencer shakes his head, trying not to be too upset. He is totally capable of not being a preteen when interacting with Jon. Then Jon smiles at him and all Spencer’s pretences are blown once again. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Ryan says after Jon has left, and Spencer frowns at him in confusion. “You two are hideously cute. I should never have got you two together.” 

Spencer flushes hotly. “We’re not – oh, whatever, Ross. At least I'm not pining over someone with a bowl cut.” Now it’s Ryan’s turn to look confused. Spencer smirks. “Come on, we’ll be late for Physics.” 

//

“Hey! Hey, Spencer!” 

Spencer spins around, trying to locate the source of the voice, and sees Jon running towards him through the crowds of students, his messenger bag banging against his hip and the wind blowing his hair back from his face. Spencer bites his lip to stop himself from grinning too hard. 

Jon draws to a halt a few feet in front of Spencer, stopping to pant for breath. Spencer waits patiently, watching Jon’s breath cloud white in the frosty air. After a minute Jon straightens up, flashing Spencer a dazzling smile. “That’s better! How was your day, Spencer Smith?” 

Spencer shrugs. “Uninteresting.” 

Jon laughs, and it’s still just as perfect as last time. “Maybe I can rectify that? I, um, I wondered if you wanted to come to the Christmas Fair? With me, I mean?” 

Spencer thinks about playing it cool for a moment, like hanging out with Jon Walker outside of school is no big deal. Then he decides that’s a ridiculous idea. “Sure,” he nods, and smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. 

//

The Christmas Fair, like tinsel, angels, and pigs in blankets, is something that Spencer never really considers being a quintessential part of Christmas, but he knows the festive season wouldn’t be the same without it. The stalls are stocked full of the usual knick-knacks and novelties, hand-carved everything you could think of and food stalls on every corner. Spencer takes another bite of his pretzel and watches Jon Walker talk, feeling pretty much at peace with the entire world. 

(Well, apart from the intense fluttering panic in his stomach every time Jon smiles at him or looks at him or does _anything_ that makes Spencer want to throw up or cry or something equally ridiculous.) 

He’s slightly worried that Jon will try and buy him dessert, because that will mean this is definitely a date, and Spencer isn’t sure he can deal with that, but Jon seems too busy admiring the fancy glass baubles for sale and telling Spencer how much he loves Christmas. It’s nothing short of terribly endearing. 

“Spencer, look!” Before Spencer knows what’s happening, Jon has grabbed his hand and is pulling Spencer over to a brightly lit stall covered in silver stars. Spencer barely appreciates the decoration, however, because _Jon Walker_ is _holding his hand_. It’s warm and a little rough from guitar callouses, and Spencer honestly might keel over at any moment. 

“Drumsticks, Spencer!” Jon is smiling up at him with almost childlike glee, and Spencer shakes himself into reality for long enough to realise that the stall is selling hand-carved drumsticks in a range of Christmas designs. Spencer picks up a pair and tries them out against the wooden counter, and is surprised to find they’re of a pretty high quality, the sound ringing out strong and clear as he rattles out a quick paradiddle. 

“Cute,” he says, trying to ignore how much he already misses the warmth of Jon’s hand in his own. 

“Do you want a pair?” Jon asks, and Spencer shakes his head, frowning. 

“I can’t afford it, not when I’m buying mum’s presents this year.” It’s a shame. They really are good drumsticks. Jon pouts for a moment, looking upset on Spencer’s behalf. “It’s okay. I have, like, six pairs already.” 

“But they’re so _festive_!” Jon says, and then suddenly his eye is caught by something else. “Spencer! Spencer, they have a carousel!” 

When Jon takes his hand again, Spencer would pretty much let him drag him anywhere, but he raises an eyebrow when Jon stops them in front of the old-fashioned ride. 

“Really?” Spencer asks, cocking his hip just a little as he stares up at the spinning horses and squealing children uncertainly. 

Jon grins at him. “Come on, Spencer Smith. Live a little!” 

Spencer hardly thinks that fairground rides are the height of living vicariously, but he lets Jon take his hand again and thinks that he doesn’t need a carousel to feel like he’s flying. 

//

Unfortunately, the school board does not seem to recognise or understand Spencer’s need to spend as much time as possible with Jon Walker if only to check that he’s actually real, because all of a sudden Spencer is in the middle of finals preparation and every moment that he isn’t spending studying, he’s spending being told by his teachers or his parents how much he _should_ be studying. Hell, even Brendon has taken a break out of his busy schedule of annoying Ryan and singing _all the time_ to actually do some work. 

Nevertheless, Spencer still manages to find the time to text Jon whenever possible: small anecdotes about his day, descriptions of the hideous items of clothing Ryan has found at the second hand store he works at, long soliloquies on how much finals suck. He knows Jon must be extra stressed about the exams, what with being a senior, but he always seems willing to chat with Spencer, even if he does use more emoticons than anyone Spencer has ever met. It’s nice that Spencer doesn’t feel like he’s the only one making an effort here – Jon sends him hearts and kisses that make Spencer’s own heart flutter, and whenever Jon calls Spencer cute he blushes furiously and changes the subject even though Jon can’t see him. 

“I’ve been trying to call you for over an hour!” Brendon tells Spencer one evening, and Spencer can hear his pout even over the phone. “Who the hell were you talking to for that long? And don’t say Ryan because I’m at his right now, okay.” 

Spencer’s eyes widen as he checks his watch. Were he and Jon really talking for an hour? “I was, er, I was talking to Jon,” Spencer confesses, and he can practically _hear_ Brendon’s interest pique. 

“Jon? As in Jon Walker, photographer extraordinaire, the bassist of your dreams?” 

Spencer sighs. “Remind me never to let you and Ryan hang out together ever again.” 

“Come on, Spencer!” Brendon enthuses. “Why have you been keeping all the juicy details from me? Tell me all about Jon Walker’s manly shoulders – ooh, hey, if he’s a photographer he must be really good with his –”

“Brendon!” Spencer hears Ryan say warningly in the background of the call, and then there are some rustling noises that Spencer can’t (and frankly doesn’t want to) identify. 

Brendon’s voice is slightly breathy when he gets back to the phone. “Okay, I’ve got to go now, but I mean it Spencer! I want to know everything! You can’t keep secrets from me!” 

Spencer laughs as he hears Ryan’s voice again in the background. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now go! I do _not_ need to know what you and Ryan are up to!” 

“Nothing in comparison to the filth you and Jon have been discussing I’m sure!” Brendon yells, sounding far away as the phone line clicks off. Spencer snorts, before dropping down onto his back on the bed, staring up at the Green Day poster on his ceiling. It’s possible that this – this _thing_ with Jon is more serious than Spencer has been allowing himself to consider. He can still remember how Jon’s hand felt in his own, the curve of his lips and his brown eyes sparkling. Spencer hasn’t been this far gone over a guy since his middle school infatuations, but at the same time, as the evil little voice at the back of Spencer’s brain keeps reminding him, they’ve only known each other less than a month. Jon – fuck, Jon doesn’t even know Spencer’s trans yet, let alone might want to, to date him or whatever. 

Spencer groans and wraps his arms around himself, glaring up at Tré Cool. Being 16 totally sucks. 

//

The last day of school before the holidays flies by in a blur of chocolate, Christmas quizzes, and teachers who are as ready to get the hell out of there as the students are. Spencer saunters out through the gates at 3 o’clock next to Ryan, laughing at nothing in particular, but he stops dead when he spots Jon leaning up against his beat up blue Buick and wrapped up in a thick grey scarf and fingerless gloves. Jon raises his hand in a wave when he realises Spencer has spotted him, and Ryan glances back and forth between the two of them, smirking. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he tells Spencer, patting him on the back. Spencer turns to tell him that no, he doesn’t know how to deal with this by himself, but Ryan is already making his way down the street and Spencer is almost directly in front of Jon. 

“Hey,” Jon says softly, and for a moment there’s a heavy, awkward silence between them before Jon pulls spencer into a hug. Spencer barely remembers to suck in his chest as he presses up against Jon, too busy breathing in Jon’s scent of pine needles and cold. 

“You smell like Christmas trees,” Spencer informs him after he’s pulled away, and Jon’s face scrunches up a little. 

“Yeah, about that. My mum wants me to get the decorating done while I’m off school, and I wondered if you wanted to help? I mean, you don’t have to, but –”

Spencer is smiling and making his way around to the passenger side door before Jon has even finished. “Sure,” he shrugs, trying not to look as ridiculously pleased as he feels. “Let’s go get festive, Jon Walker!” 

//

“You, Spencer Smith,” Jon states from where he’s flopped backwards over the sofa as Spencer hangs bauble around the far side of the tree, “are a master Christmas decorator.” 

Spencer snorts. “Yeah, sure. Just call me a Christmas elf.” 

Jon’s smile is just as bright even when it’s upside down and lit up red and green from the fairy lights on the tree. “Does that make me Santa Claus?” He flips over onto his stomach and grins up at Spencer. “After all, I do have the beard for it.” 

It’s true that Jon’s facial hair is rather prolific, and Spencer strokes at his own chin pensively. “I’m gonna have a beard one day,” he tells Jon, stretching up to adjust the tinsel near the top of the tree. He can picture himself with a nine o’clock shadow or a week’s worth of stubble, and it makes him smile despite himself. 

“Just don’t shave for a month or so,” Jon suggests, and Spencer feels his chest constrict beneath his binder. This is it, he decides, this is now or never, he just has to come out and tell Jon before it’s too late. It’s as nerve-wracking as it always is, the words bubbling up through Spencer’s throat and bouncing around behind his teeth, but he trusts that Jon won’t be an asshole about it or anything. Spencer’s main worry is that Jon won’t look at him the same way after he knows, like Spencer is the centre of some universe or other. 

“I, er, I can’t do that actually. Grow a beard, I mean.” Spencer pauses to take a breath and calm his racing nerves. “Because I’m transgender - a transgender guy. Like, I was assigned female at birth but I –”

“I know.” Jon’s eyes are wide and honest when Spencer looks at him, shocked, and oh, _oh_ , okay then. 

“You know?” Spencer asks quietly, and Jon nods, sitting up on the sofa and looking serious now. 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I kind of guessed? I wasn’t quite sure at first, but then you said that you were a boy and that’s all that matters really.” 

Spencer’s heart rate is a mess inside his chest, and he thinks he might be smiling too hard. Part of him wants to kiss Jon, and another part wants to run away, and another wants to curl up in a ball and cry. 

“Hey,” Jon says, and his voice is so soft Spencer wants to reach out and touch it. His smile is still lopsided as leans down to grab something from the box of decorations on the floor, and his eyes still twinkle. He sits up all of a sudden and holds something gold and glittery out towards Spencer. “Do you want to put the star on the tree?” 

The pine needles poke at Spencer through his shirt as he leans forwards to take the star delicately, and when his and Jon’s fingers brush together, Spencer only smiles harder. 

//

It’s already dark by the time Jon drives Spencer home, and Spencer can’t deny that it feels like the end of a date, even if all they’ve done since Spencer’s big revelation is eat cookies and watch terrible Christmas reruns on TV. There’s been an unspoken shift somewhere between them, though, Spencer knows that, and when Jon pulls up outside Spencer’s house Spencer half expects him to lean in and kiss him. He doesn’t though. Jon just turns down the volume on the radio, which has been blasting carols into the car, and Spencer notices that his lips are kind of chapped, huh. 

“Thanks for helping to decorate,” Jon says, and his eyes are bright bright bright. 

“Christmas elf, remember?” Spencer raises his eyebrows self-deprecatingly, and Jon laughs. 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

The silence stretches on for a moment, and shit, Spencer should _say something_. He wishes that he wasn’t so scared, that he could just go for this like he goes for everything else in his life. 

“Merry Christmas, Spence,” Jon says, and it takes everything Spencer has to remove himself from the warm heat of the car and into the cold night air. 

//

Spencer wakes to the sound of buzzing by his head. For a moment he tries to calculate how long he can stay in bed before he has to get ready for school, but then he remembers that it's the holidays and he doesn't need to set his alarm for the next two weeks. Groaning, Spencer reaches for his phone only to see that he has 5 texts from Jon and 3 from Brendon (who is visiting family for Christmas and keeps informing Spencer how bored he is through various strings of letters). Suddenly spencer doesn't feel tired anymore. 

The first text from Jon reads _SNOW!!!_ The next reads _spencer smith you have to come and play in the snow with me_ , and then there are increasingly desperate pleas for Spencer to, in Jon's words, engage in _super cool super fun super hardcore snowball battles_. 

Spencer is ready in under ten minutes. 

His mum insists that he wears his new gloves and at least three pairs of socks, but he's still out of the house as fast as possible, stopping only to revel in the blinding white paradise that his back garden has been transformed into overnight before he's heading off towards the park, gathering his ammunition as he goes. Spencer and Ryan have been conducting epic snowball matches for years now, and Spencer likes to think he's picked up a trick or two. He packs his snowballs tight enough to cause some damage, but not so much that they won't explode on impact, and by the time he reaches the park gates he's juggling five well-sized snowballs in his arms. He spots Jon a mile off in his bright red woollen hat, and Spencer prepares his aim carefully as he sneaks up through the treeline behind him. 

"Hey, asshole!" Spencer yells, ducking out from under the trees before letting the snowball fly. It hits Jon square in the chest and Spencer cheers victoriously. Jon's eyes narrow as he scoops up a handful of snow from the ground. 

"Oh it is on, Smith!" 

Spencer gulps and runs backwards, snatching up his snowballs from where they're resting on the ground, and prepares to win or go down fighting. Ryan will never let him live it down if it gets out that Jon Walker can beat him in a snowball fight. 

It turns out that Jon can fight just as hard as Spencer, and is equally willing to resort to dirty tactics. Before long there is snow flying everywhere - Spencer has white powder all over him and a wave of ice down the back of his jumper thanks to a particularly crafty attack from Jon, and Jon looks like a walking snowman. Spencer tells him this after they collapse onto the ground, exhausted, and Jon sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Are we calling it a draw then?” he asks. For a moment Spencer is about to argue that no, he totally won that match, okay, but then Jon wraps an arm around his shoulder and he rules against it. 

“Sure,” he says with a grin, “but you owe me hot chocolate.” 

Jon smiles. “Now that I can do.” 

Jon’s house is warm and thankfully less full of people than Spencer’s, but he still insists that they detour to his favourite café (“ _not_ Starbucks,” he says emphatically, and Spencer is quick to agree) for hot chocolate. Spencer has to admit that the drinks are good, and when Jon gets a white moustache from the froth on top it makes him laugh more than the situation really merits. Being around Jon just makes him feel so full of _everything_ , feelings he can’t even name, and he thinks he might be coming across as ever so slightly hysterical. 

Jon doesn’t seem to notice, or at least he doesn’t mind as he laughs along with Spencer, and his mouth looks so warm and inviting that Spencer can’t stop himself from leaning forwards and kissing him. 

It takes him less than ten seconds to decide that this was a terrible idea. Jon is a good kisser – of course he is – and Spencer, fuck, Spencer doesn’t know what to _do_ with himself. He feels clumsy and awkward and ridiculous, and God, Jon is too much, Spencer doesn’t know if he can bear it. He pulls away fast, and Jon frowns at him just a little, his eyes and his mouth so soft. His hand reaches out to stroke across Spencer’s cheek, and Spencer doesn’t pull away. 

“Spencer Smith, you are full of surprises.” 

Spencer feels like all the air in his lungs has been replaced with sand, and it takes all he has to remind himself to speak. “I try.” 

Jon laughs and it’s like the first time all over again, like back in the coffee shop or laying in the snow or hanging wreaths above Jon’s door, and Spencer wants to freeze this moment and keep it forever. 

When Jon kisses him again, Spencer breathes in and makes a wish. 

//

The twins wake Spencer up at 6 on the dot on Christmas morning, and it’s all Spencer can do to keep them entertained for as long as possible before they insist it’s definitely present opening time already. Ryan comes around after lunch as always, knowing Mrs Smith has made it her lifelong goal to feel him as much food as is humanly possible every time he does, and they Skype Brendon together, laughing at the hideous Christmas jumper his grandmother has knitted him and regaling him with tales of their epic snow battles. Brendon seems much happier by the end of the call, and Spencer is glad to have made family time bearable for him, he honestly is, but it’s almost dark already and he still hasn’t received more than a _Merry Christmas!_ text from Jon. He sneaks away while his family (plus Ryan) are sleeping off their food comas in front of _It’s a Wonderful Life_ and locks himself in his room before calling Jon. 

Jon picks up on the third ring, sounding overjoyed and like he has a mouthful of mince pie, and Spencer feels all his tension slip away. 

“Spencer Smith! Merry Christmas!” 

“Merry Christmas,” Spencer agrees, and he can hear the sounds of Jon’s family in the background, and then a door closing and the line becomes clearer. 

“Hey,” Jon says, and his voice is lower now, like it always is just for Spencer. “How are you?” 

“Not bad,” Spencer’s trying to play it cool, but his heart feels heavy in a way he thinks isn’t just due to the turkey dinner. “I wish you were here.” 

“Yeah,” Jon says, sounding slightly wistful. “Same here.” 

Spencer listens to Jon talk, and it’s ridiculous how quickly he’s become used to this, Jon’s voice and Jon’s smile and the way he makes Spencer feel ridiculous and awful and wonderful at the same time. Spencer thinks he could just listen to Jon breathe down the phone line and it would be enough, just to know that he was there. 

Eventually Spencer’s hears a knock on Jon’s bedroom door through the phone, and then Jon is talking to someone. When he gets back to the phone, his voice is resigned. “My family want me to play board games with them.” There’s a pause like Jon is about to say something, and Spencer’s hands feel clammy around his phone. Jon sighs. Spencer can relate. “Merry Christmas, Spencer,” Jon says again, and Spencer bites down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something he’ll regret. 

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers after the line has gone dead, and he stares at the phone for a long time before he moves again. 

//

“Spencer,” Ryan whispers, and this time it’s Spencer who has to force himself awake enough to respond. “Spencer, Brendon got me _Lullaby_ for Christmas.” 

“I know,” Spencer says, really hoping this is actually going somewhere. 

“What did Jon get you?” 

Spencer smiles, thinking about the long, thin package and the red snowflake engravings. “Drumsticks,” he tells Ryan, his voice rough. There’s a long pause, and Spencer wonders if Ryan’s fallen asleep again. 

“Spencer, do you love him?” The trouble with guys like Ryan is that they think 3 in the morning on Boxing Day is an appropriate time to ask Spencer ridiculous questions and actually expect answers to them. 

“Shut up and go to sleep Ryan.” 

Spencer hears Ryan roll over in the bed, and then it’s just the sound of the clock and Spencer’s own heart, too fast under his shirt. 

//

“Stop taking pictures of me,” Spencer pouts, flapping a hand ineffectually in Jon’s direction while the other reaches for the popcorn bowl again. “You’re the one who said you wanted to watch Aladdin!” 

“But Speeeeencer,” Jon looks up at him with huge, pleading eyes, even as Spencer is already shaking his head. “You’re too pretty _not_ to photograph!” 

Spencer blushes, and then frowns. “Pretty?” he asks uncertainly, his hand curling into itself a little where it’s now resting on Jon’s lap. Jon reaches across to smooth out the frown lines across Spencer’s forehead and smiles softly. 

“Beautiful, handsome, manly. Love of my life, light of my world, my moon and stars...” Spencer giggles, leaning so he’s pressed up against Jon’s side, his head resting on Jon’s shoulder. 

“Shut up,” he grins, and Jon smiles down at him and pokes his nose. 

“Never!” 

Spencer looks up at Jon through his lowered eyelashes (too long for a boy, too soft) and suddenly it’s easy to forget the tightness of his binder, the way his body curves against Jon’s straight lines and sharp angles, to ignore everything except the way the light from the Christmas tree illuminates Jon’s face, making him look soft and beautiful. Spencer feels something warm settle low in his chest as he leans up to press his lips against Jon’s for a moment before he pulls away. 

“I love you,” he says, and it’s stupid, he’s sixteen and ridiculous and Jon’s laugh still makes him want to die sometimes, but he means it. Jon’s eyes go wide for a second, and then he’s kissing Spencer like his life depends on it, like Spencer is oxygen and Jon has been living underwater his whole life until now. 

Spencer’s eyes slide shut and he sighs quietly, a slice of breath against Jon’s lips. He thinks that he doesn’t want to be doing anything else right now, and that maybe he isn’t quite as ridiculous as he’s been telling himself he is. 

There’s a sudden flash of white light beside them and Spencer jumps with shock, his teeth knocking against Jon’s and his eyes flying open to see the camera and Jon’s guilty grin. 

“Sorry,” he shrugs, not looking sorry at all. “I had to.” 

Spencer is scared to ask, scared to do anything that might ruin the moment, but he kind of has to as well. “Does that mean the sentiment is returned?” 

Jon’s grin is wider than Spencer has ever seen, and his teeth are shiny white and Spencer thinks Jon is the one in this room worth taking photos of. “Something like that.” 

Teenage hormones are a totally appropriate reason for them to start sucking each other’s faces off on the sofa, and Spencer is infinitely grateful that they are not at his house, surrounded by twins and dogs and god knows who else. Jon’s mouth is probably perfect, Spencer decides, which is handy because it matches the rest of him. 

“Hey,” Jon says when they’re breathless and loose-limbed from making out. “So, my parents throw this big party for New Year’s every year and you should totally come.” 

Spencer frowns. He’s only met Jon’s parents once, very briefly, when picking Jon up to go to the cinema, and he doesn’t know any of Jon’s other friends particularly well. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course!” Jon smirks. “Who else am I going to kiss at midnight?” 

“You want your entire family to see me kissing you?” 

“Okay, maybe not,” Jon admits. “But I still want you to be there. Shit, we’re official now, you’ve gotta get parental approval, right?” 

Jon’s laughing, but Spencer raises an eyebrow, his heart beating furiously. “We’re official?” 

Jon leans forward until there’s barely an inch of space between them, and Spencer can see every fleck in Jon’s brown, brown eyes. “You used the l-word, Spencer Smith. That’s about as official as it gets.” 

And Spencer still wants to laugh and yell and scream, but mostly he wants to pull Jon in and kiss him until they’re dizzy with it. The fact that he can do that is slightly too mind-blowing to comprehend, but he does it anyway, just to check. Jon, at least, doesn’t seem to mind. 

//

On the first day back after the holidays, Spencer makes a swift detour towards Starbucks after school, despite Ryan having given him a lecture on the evils of capitalistic corporations just that morning (Spencer blames the new teacher, Mr Wentz, for the fact that Ryan had actually started paying attention in politics class now, instead of just writing angsty poetry in the margins of his notebooks.) 

Jon’s working there, along with some curly haired kid who looks about Spencer’s age. They’re laughing together, and for a moment Spencer watches the lines of Jon’s throat and the way his eyes sparkle and he feels slightly overwhelmed. Then Jon spots him in the doorway and grins wide and real in a way that Spencer knows is just for him, waving at Spencer to come over. 

“Hey, jailbait,” he smiles when Spencer is leaning against the counter, playing with the packets of sweetener and trying not to look ridiculously pleased. 

“Hey, pervert,” Spencer quips back, raising an eyebrow at Jon who just laughs. 

“I’m afraid we’re not stocking cinnamon-flavoured anything anymore,” he tells Spencer, “but I can offer you a peppermint mocha?” 

“Hmm,” Spencer pretends to deliberate, staring up at the menu board. “Depends who’s making it, I guess.” 

Jon’s smile is warm and slow like honey. “Well, seeing as we’re woefully understaffed as well as underpaid, I guess that would have to be me.” 

Spencer nods pensively. “I can deal with that.” 

Their hands brush as Spencer hands over his money, and it’s ridiculous that that should make him blush, but it does. Jon turns around to make Spencer’s drink, just as the other server, whose nametag Spencer can now see reads ‘Adam’, turns to him. 

“Hey,” he says, sweeping his mane of hair back from his forehead. “You’re Brendon’s friend, right?” 

“Um, yeah,” Spencer replies, trying to place if he knows the guy – maybe from marching band competitions, or that Beckett guy Brendon’s been hanging around with lately. 

Adam grins cheekily. “So, are you Jon’s secret girlfriend that he won’t tell me about then?” 

Spencer’s breath catches in his throat, and really he should be used to this by now but it still feels like ice down his spine or a blade in his chest every time. He knows he doesn’t pass, he knows that, but being misgendered still makes him want to curl up into a ball and cry. 

Jon turns back and slides Spencer’s drink across the counter towards him, his eyes soft and gentle. “Sisky, this is Spencer,” he tells Adam, his hand reaching out to rest on top of Spencer’s. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

“Oh,” Adam looks confused for a moment, then smiles brightly at Spencer. “Nice to meet you!” 

Spencer’s own smile could possibly rival the sun as he links his fingers with Jon’s – Jon who doesn’t even know Spencer’s old name, Jon who makes Spencer feel tall, Jon who knew he was a boy right from the start. 

“My shift finishes in half an hour,” Jon tells him, watching Spencer’s fingertips tap out a beat against his wrist. “You should stick around, Smith.” 

Spencer nods, listening to the chatter of the coffee shop go on around them. “I can do that.” 

//

“You know, Spencer Smith,” Jon says as they’re walking down the street, Jon’s gloved hand wrapped around Spencer’s and their breath clouding over in the air in front of them, “you’re the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.” 

“Oh my god,” Spencer says, staring at him. “You’re actually that fucking cheesy, aren’t you?” 

Jon nods happily. “Uh huh.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Spencer informs him. 

“But you love me.” 

“Yep,” Spencer says with a smile that’s probably visible from space. “I do.” 


End file.
